d
been having a great Sacramental dispute, and some, as is likely, had
maintained against the bishop that the grinding of the Host by the
teeth of any communicant meant the grinding of Christ's very body, then
it becomes evident that Hugh put this their belief to rather a rough
proof, or reproof. Anyhow, he posed them with this answer, "Since a
short time back we handled together the most saintly body of the Saint
of Saints with fingers granted unworthy; if we handled It with our teeth
or lips, and passed It on to our inwards, why do we not also in faith so
treat the members of his saints for our defence, their worship, and the
deepening of our memory of them, and acquire, so far as opportunity
allows, what we are to keep with due honour?"

At Peterborough they had the arm of St. Oswald, which had kept fresh for
over five centuries. A supple nerve which protruded Hugh had sliced off
and put in this wonderful ring. This, though he had offered it to the
high altar at Lincoln, he would have left to the Charterhouse; but Adam
reminded him of the fact, so instead thereof he ordered a golden box
full of the relics he gave them to be sent after his death.

With mutual blessings he took his last leave of the Grande Chartreuse,
and left it in the body, though his heart and mind could never be
dislodged from its desert place. This place was his father and his
mother, but Lincoln, he did not forget, was his wife.

FOOTNOTES:

{26} "Modern Painters," iv. 253.

CHAPTER X

HOMEWARD BOUND

After a brief visit to the Priory of St. Domninus Hugh made for
Villarbenoit, his old school and college in one; but first he went to
Avalon Castle, where his stout backers and brothers, William and Peter,
ruled over their broad lands, who always had heartened and encouraged
him in his battles for the liberties of the Church. Here "nobles,
middle-class men, and the lowest people" received him with delight, and
he spent two days at this his birthplace, and so on to Villarbenoit, and
a fine dance his coming made for them all. He gave the Church a noble
Bible worth ten silver marks, and passed to the cell of St. Maximin.
Here aged hobblers and white-haired seniors, bowed mothers and women
advanced in years, walled round him in happy throng. The bright-eyed
lady of his unrest, possibly, was among these last, and they all bore
witness to his early holiness, and prophesied his future niche in the
calendar. After one more night at Avalon